Categorized Under 'Empathy'
by Jayflight111
Summary: Annie attempts to watch everything Abed's ever referenced in what is probably the strangest form of seduction ever documented.


_Community/"Categorized Under 'Empathy'"/ (Set after "Introduction to Finality")_

**"Categorized Under 'Empathy'"**

_Summary: Annie attempts to watch everything Abed's ever referenced in what is probably the strangest form of seduction ever documented._

Later on, when she'd describe it to the grandkids, she'd say it was gradual. She'd tell them that she fell in love with their grandfather slowly, gracefully, the way a young woman should fall in love. She won't go into specifics, however, because then she'd have to share this moment, now, where she's sneaking out of her floral pink bedroom into the living room to find the first season of Abed's favorite TV show, Inspector Spacetime. Not that this means that at this moment she's tiptoeing out of her room get a DVD with the intention of eventually marrying Abed. No one can foresee that outcome at this point in time, right?

She takes out her phone and begins to shine its light over the box sets on Abed's DVD shelf. She's organized them alphabetically, so she actually knows where Inspector Spacetime should be, but for whatever reason, she can't seem to find it.

She's wearing her Pink Panther Pajamas (which are actually her favorite), and she's also wearing her pink ballet-flat slippers, which, she thinks, match perfectly. In fact, in retrospect, she's very well dressed for this mission, despite the fact that she's obviously in Pjs and would never leave the house. Perhaps she's only dressed this way because it's what she had left in her closet after a week without doing laundry.

The lights turn on, and she's momentarily blinded.

Or… perhaps she's dressed this way because she expected that to happen. She turns to see Abed come out of the Blanket fort, looking suspicious.

"What're you doing?"

As she grabs a lock of her hair "subconsciously", she wonders if flirting even works on Abed.

"I… uh…"

"You want season three of Inspector Spacetime? Geneva's in that one."

He grabs it off the shelf and examines the box. "Geneva's not as lame as I said. Not really anyway."

She takes that as a sort of compliment and smiles because she can tell that he's only saying that for her sake. Abed doesn't change opinions often.

"Thanks, but I was actually hoping for the first one."

"The first season? Sure." They both reach for it, and their hands touch.

This is the moment. The moment where she first feels it—or, well, feels it strongly. She feels the pull. She's looking at his lips, and he's looking down at hers, and soon enough he's clearing his throat and whispering a soft goodnight before climbing back into his bed-blanket-fort.

Looking back on past events after she's neatly tucked into her bed, curled up with the first episode playing on her computer screen, she thinks about how the attraction started _way_ before that. Way before she'd really like to admit. She thought that attraction was a side effect of his imitation, not meant for him but instead for whatever character he was trying to be. Part of her even believed that there wasn't even really a person inside there, just a robot looking to be accepted by their study group.

Then again, she failed to see what was right in front of her—he was looking to be accepted. No robot could logically do that—that would imply they had _feelings_, could _care_, all things a robot could by definition not do.

Abed was not a robot.

.

.

.

Weeks went by, and he noticed that someone had made a very systematic, very dedicated dent in conquering his wall of DVD box sets. In fact, all of his Inspector Spacetime, LOST, Friends, and Cougartown DVD box sets had been only slightly shifted, and whoever had been borrowing his DVDs had been doing it meticulously slowly, as to not alarm him. The thing that only slightly agitated him was the fact that the last disc of his second season of Cougartown was still missing when he checked, but he tried his best to let the feeling die in his throat. After all, he knew the culprit.

Annie Edison.

His calculations originally indicated that she was young, incredibly idealistic, needy, and childish at times. That her hairline was too far forward on her face, her nose was smaller than the national average, her height was in the lower percentile. That she shouldn't be attractive to him, for all the reasons that someone shouldn't be attracted—after all, who could be attracted to someone so clearly focused on someone else? Annie's fatal attraction to Jeff, even after months and months of nothing but being turned away for being herself, didn't seem to go away.

But his calculations had never been quite right with her. After all, while he'd been able to convince her to succumb to the charms of Don Draper and Han Solo, he hadn't foreseen her coming to his rescue in the dreamtorium, teaching him about the wonders of something new called empathy. He couldn't have predicted the way his life changed thereafter, with Britta moving in with Troy and occupying his time. He didn't see her coming to his rescue again, taking the time to watch TV beside him, even if she had studying to do.

And even now, as Troy and Britta had sex in the other room, he could hear her soft laughter through the door. Surely she was laughing at another one of Ellie Torres' harsh insults. He could hear Courtney Cox's voice through the door. He wanted to open it.

The door wasn't locked. It wasn't a force field, holding him back. It wasn't made of kryptonite.

But, for what he thinks is the first time in his life, Abed can't just open the door.

What would Annie think?

There. That Empathy. It kicks in when he doesn't expect it. It's like he's an action figure with a new part.

It's that simple question, that question caused by the double-edged sword of empathy she'd given him, that keeps him from opening the door.

He can hear her giggle again, through the door, and he lingers for a bit before turning and heading toward the Blanket fort.

.

.

.

She's a disc and a half away from being done with his entire collection of DVDs. She was so careful, treating the individual DVDs and the complete heist with such meticulous care that she's almost sure he doesn't notice. She says almost sure because with Abed it's never easy to tell what he does know and what he doesn't.

Today, she plans to sneakily steal the last disc of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, right after breakfast with Troy, Britta, and Abed. Ever since Britta moved in, she thinks, she's seen less and less of Troy—sometimes she wishes that relationships didn't change dynamics, didn't set things in motion, waiting to collide.

She stands at the counter looking idly out the window, mixing a bowl of crepe batter. Abed is awake, she knows, because he's been in shower for the last ten minutes, humming the tune to Inspector Spacetime. Subconsciously, she begins to hum the tune as well, rocking the bowl back and forth as though it were her baby before placing it on the counter. Still humming, she turns on the crepe maker, remembering how Troy had originally objected to buying it. 'It's not like we're gonna eat anything other than buttered noodles, Annie', 'Geez, Annie, that's way too fancy. Can't you just use a pan like a normal person?'. She places it back on the counter, taking the moment to run the water and wash her hands.

"Good Morning." Monotone. But still, she jumps, splashing water everywhere and accidentally knocking the bowl of batter over. With a swift motion, he catches the bowl and places it on the table.

"Sorry."

She turns to look at him.

He stares back, standing limply.

"I… uh… made crepe batter."

"I saw."

She's panicking internally, freaking out because she knows—she knows that he doesn't find this situation awkward, strange, or _erotic_ in the slightest. This is all her, these feelings are all one sided, all in her head, and there's nothing more embarrassing than knowing that for certain and _still_, somewhere inside the depths of her heart, hoping for a different outcome.

But he's looking at her like that, with those eyes that seem heavy with thought, and she can't escape.

She honestly doesn't know which situation is worse anymore: being with Jeff or being with Abed. With Abed she gets all the kindness and chivalry in the world, the type of treatment any girl would die for. But at least with Jeff, she knew he was attracted to her and only her—that he wasn't just this nice (or mean) to everyone. That she was special, alone in her predicament, no matter how strange or heartbreaking it was.

Abed goes and sits at the table, tangling his fingers on the table and sitting upright the way she usually does. It occurs to her that she's never seen him do that before now. But it doesn't look comfortable.

Carefully, she stirs more ingredients into the batter, pouring some on the crepe maker to start.

She can hear him come up behind her.

"I'm sorry… I… uh… probably should've offered to help."

Offering to help? Since when does Abed offer to help with _anything_?

"That's okay."

She looks up at him over her shoulder, and while he's standing, looking over her shoulder, his hands are at a respectable distance from her torso and his front isn't touching her back. No matter how much she wants it to. Abed is no master of seduction, no Jeff-like mastermind. Sex isn't even on his mind right now, probably.

But what if it is?

She looks down at the crepe, watching as it's thin layer crusts too quickly for her to pry off with a spatula. Her brow creases.

That layer of batter was far too thin. She must've done something wrong…

"That was really thin." He says over her shoulder. Her breath hitches in her throat.

"Yeah… I probably skipped a step or something…"

She doesn't turn to look at him. She can tell by the way he's standing that he's surveying his surroundings for all the ingredients needed. She can imagine his face, still, calculating, as though everything in life could be determined by theorems and calculations. And maybe they can be.

"Did you… use Bisquick?"

Bisquick? Why would she…?

At this, she turns around, quickly coming face to face with Abed Nadir. As close as she was the last time they kissed. The way his body shifts, she can tell he remembers it too.

She should feel compelled to continue the conversation, to find out what's wrong, but…

She can't stop looking at him.

From what she can tell he's at least mildly alarmed by the situation, and since he hasn't moved away quite yet, she can guess he can assume what might come next based on every romantic comedy ever…

But just kissing her would be very un-Abed. And this time, it's that Abed she wants to kiss.

"Can I ask a question?" He doesn't move away, doesn't look away, and doesn't make her want to vomit out of embarrassment. She nods lightly.

"Do you want me to kiss you right now?"

She…

She…

She doesn't want him to ask. Was it too much to expect him to be able to look into her eyes and spot the need, spot the feeling? She couldn't possibly expect him to suddenly see and process emotion, to see her answer to that question in her eyes, could she?

She opens her mouth to tell him yes, and he does it anyway, before she can even speak.

And she gladly wraps herself in him, kissing him and feeling him and understanding the person behind Don Draper, behind Batman, behind Han Solo. He shoves her back against the counter and she falls against it madly, pushing cooking supplies out of the way as he lifts her onto the counter and continues the kiss. He's kissing and kissing again, quickly and more quickly, as if trying to display his need for her by pure speed and excitement. But soon she's pushing him back and kissing with passion-soft, slow, passion. The type of kiss that's not quick and desperate but instead slow, as if trying to savor the moment.

Then, out of the blue, he pulls back.

And she's so afraid—so very afraid—of what he might say. Is he doing this just to please her? Just to prove to her that "empathy" is working for him? Does he understand how much she's wanted this? Waited for it? What if he asks to stop? Turns away, like he did after the paintball war was won?

He pulls back, and she looks at him desperately, near tears.

What she's met with surprises her. The kind eyes of a man who is trying desperately to make someone happy, cheer someone up, without knowing how to.

And she wants to cry.

"Is this okay, Annie? Is this what you want? Do you want it as much as I do? I just…"

As much as I do? He wants her?

"…I can't continue if… if you're not okay, okay?"

She's out of breath, crying, smiling, all at once. He takes the tears as a need to panic.

"Annie, you're crying."

"Good tears, Abed, good tears." She pulls him into a deep hug, dropping kisses down the side of his neck.

"I said the right thing?"

She breathes, laughing next to his ear.

"You said the right thing."

.

.

.

He's never seen Annie's room from Annie's bed. The ceiling is much closer, the floor much further, and well… Annie's certainly much warmer than he ever imagined.

She's asleep now, curled up against him in her Pink Panther Pajamas, breathing slowly, softly, in his ear. The computer sits at the foot of the bed, the finishing credits of the last Lord of the Rings movie flashing before his eyes. Should he close it and place it somewhere off the bed, and risk waking up a sleeping Annie? Or should he just lay here and fall asleep with her, possibly endangering the safety of the computer?

He wonders if other people think about these things.

Annie shifts in her sleep, her soft pink lips brushing his ear in a way that makes his lips quiver. He takes his right foot, lifts it, and uses it to shut the computer before softly turning his head and kissing Annie on the forehead like thousands of TV men have done before him.

He furrows his eyebrows. Most forehead kisses are done by dads on sitcoms. He turns again, softly, gently, and places a kiss directly on her lips. She smiles.

There. Much better.

He falls asleep then and there, tucked close to the girl of his dreams.

.

.

.

And besides, he reminds himself as an after-thought, if that computer falls while shut it has 70% chance of surviving at this distance from the floor.


End file.
